moirai
by songs
Summary: an ending, a beginning. they meet again, in the next life; — ო eremika.


**title: **moirai

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa.

**summary: **AU. An ending, a beginning. They meet again, in the next life.

**disclaimer: **own nothing.

**notes: **this was prompted by _heichews _on tumblr. it was too long to post there, so here it is!

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Mikasa eyes the boy in front of her. He is: green-green eyes, dark hair, chapped lips. He is overloud and abrasive and perhaps a hair taller than she is, but that is all she really knows. That, and the fact that he can really throw a punch.

The larger boy, who had previously been sneering and taunting, topples over, and the wiry one—dark-haired and jungle-eyed—breathes heavily, something like fury shaking the bones in his fist. Another boy, smaller, more delicate, with pale eyes and cornstalk hair, touches his shoulder, and she hears something like, _Eren, that's enough, it's okay, _before "Eren" growls and the two finally walk away from the scene.

They slip out of the courtyard and towards the school; Mikasa doesn't know why, but her feet remain rooted in place. Her hands are still at her side and her eyes are wide, charcoal moons as they pass her by, as they make their way towards the twin, wood-gloss doors, and as the boy called "Eren", for a moment, catches her gaze.

X

He finds her in the library. Mikasa is halfway through _Catcher In The Rye _(the main character, she decides, is actually really, _really _whiny and immature) when she sees the tanned, calloused fist slam onto the table.

She graces him with a level, unrattled, unimpressed stare. "Can I help you?"

"You saw," he says, simply. Straight to the point. Mikasa, despite herself, likes this. "Listen. You can't tell. Or, if you do—just, it wasn't Armin's fault, okay?"

"Armin?" she asks, and, the boy groans.

"The blonde—" He lets out a low, irritated sound before tapering his words into something else. "I mean, he didn't do anything. I shouldn't have—actually, no, I _should have _put that guy in his place for being such an ass, but I just hit him. So, if you tell, it was all me. Okay?"

Mikasa cranes her neck, peering up at him from her book. The boy is still meadow-eyed and sharp-voiced. He isn't tall or mysterious or even unbearably kind-hearted or heroic. He just did what he thought was the right thing. He defended his friend. From the bully, and now, from her.

Mikasa doesn't speak much. She isn't shy, she isn't introverted, she just doesn't always find the need to, doesn't find the right people.

Now, she murmurs: "I wasn't going to tell."

He blinks at her, and a flush of red shimmers in his cheeks. "Oh. Um. Well, I—"

"I'm Mikasa," she says, cutting him off. She doesn't know why she would tell him this, but it feels as if she should. As if she _wants _to.

Silence. And then: "… Uh. Eren. Eren Jaeger."

And they begin.

X

_"I'll see you again." His breath is hot—boiling, _alive _on her neck, and she's choking on tear-water, hands trembling as they trail down the contours of his face, the bones of him, the _soul _of him._

_"No. No, I won't let you. You can't die." She's barely able to get the words out, from around her tears. "You can't die on me Eren Jaeger, _you can't_."_

_"I'm not dying," he says, and she almost scoffs, points out the pool of blood he's welling up in. "Just going away, for a while." He breaks out into a wide, bloodred smile. "Humanity's safe. I can come back, one day."_

_"Eren—no. No. I, I lov—_"

_"Me, too." There is no shyness, anymore, only content. "I'll see you."_

_For a moment, there is everything: a boy, a girl, a love, and an embrace._

_And then there is nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. _

X

Mikasa, in all her fifteen years, has never really had friends. She has her parents. She has her books. And for a while, it has been enough.

But now, she has Eren. And Armin. And doesn't quite understand how she ever was alone.

"We all need to go to the ocean," Armin says, eyes firecracker bright. "Me, and you, and Eren!"

He swats Eren's arm, and Eren lets out a mock-exasperated groan before smiling, despite himself. "Maybe in the summer," he says, and the three of them all find their eyes trailing to the window. The hollow shine of the winter sun dapples through the glass, and Mikasa wraps her arms around herself, cold.

"This summer," she says, voice light.

"…This summer," Eren repeats, looking at her for a second too long.

X

Mikasa shivers as she makes her way out of the school. She can feel the winter in her bones, and suddenly wishes she thought to bring a heavier coat. Or a hat. Or—

She feels something warm wrap around her—almost like an embrace—before she twirls around on her boot-clad heels and finds herself face-to-face with _Eren, _and… red.

Lots of red.

She stares at his hands. The ends of the scarf that is now wound around her neck swim like scarlet rivers in his palms, and he says, quietly, almost shyly:

"You looked cold."

There is a moment, a rift in time, where there is only stillness. Where Mikasa forgets the cold, forgets everything except for Eren's hands and the red of the scarf, and suddenly, it's as if she's never been without these things: Eren, the scarf, Armin, friendship—and this. Whatever _this _is. It's as if this has happened before, it's as if she's lived this moment, this bond—it's as if she's lived _for it—_and then the world weaves back into life and it is only this: a boy, a girl, a scarf, and a school courtyard.

She stares down at the scarf, and their hands, on either end of the red. _Fate, _she thinks._ Red is the color of fate._

"I'm not, anymore." She swallows. "Thank you, Eren."

He smiles, sheepishly. There is a second of hesitation, but then he reaches for her hand. And she lets him.

The lines of their palms, the simmer of pulse: it all fits. Mikasa's mind breathes this thought into her, and it lingers, murmuring like a music box, until the the moment takes over again, and together, they begin to walk.


End file.
